


Picking Up the Pieces (And Finding New Ones)

by TheSaturnianWildcat



Series: The Rabbit Hole [2]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Horror, Gen, Headcanon, So much headcanon, allusions to child death and murder, but we're still playing it fast and loose, couple of book elements sprinkled in here and there, i think i have a better grasp on what i want my timeline to be, just a bit, post-scoop michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29038317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSaturnianWildcat/pseuds/TheSaturnianWildcat
Summary: After a week of being a passenger in his own body, Michael is left to pick up the pieces of his life and try to figure out where to go from here. But with his father MIA, he turns to a familiar face who shows up suspiciously, finding out with him just how deep the rabbit hole of his father's secret goes.
Relationships: Michael Afton & Henry Emily
Series: The Rabbit Hole [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130282
Comments: 11
Kudos: 33





	1. Back Up Again

Michael had no idea how to describe how he felt when he awoke. Heavy, tired and with the unusual feeling of something inside him that wasn’t supposed to be there. Like perhaps if we were always aware of our bones. The morning sun filtered through the shades, casting weird shadows in his room. He stared for a moment, taking in the state of his room. It looked like a hurricane tore through it, dresser drawers on the floor, their contents scattered. He couldn’t find it in him to even be angry.

The next thing he noticed was his voicemail machine sitting on the side table. It blinked with the message of 5 messages.

He reached over and clicked play.

“ _Message from Dad at 7:38 am. Saturday,”_

“ _Hey son? Did you forget to call me? Please call back?”_

The messages were all from him, increasingly frantic.

“ _Michael, call me back, please.”_

“ _Are you alright, son?”_

“ _I’m heading on over, I don’t want to surprise you.”_

“ _Michael, please call me back as soon as possible. It’s your father.”_

Michael frowned deeply. How long had he been out anyway? He rolled out of bed—and fell right onto the floor. He yelped at the impact more than the pain, as what pain there was, was so dull it wasn’t worth mentioning. Shakily, he stood and grumbled, “Good job, Afton,”

Slowly and carefully he made his way to the living room and switched on his TV, navigating to the news. He ignored the newscaster, chattering about some festival a few towns over and looked at the date. Mentally, he counted forward from that fateful Friday.

He had been out more than a week! It was Saturday morning!

He groaned and shuffled back to his room. He needed to tell the old man he was...alright. Michael wasn’t sure what else to say. He wasn’t dead, despite it all, so that had to count for something, right?

When he dialed his dad’s number, it went directly to voicemail. Michael furrowed his eyebrows and stubbornly redialed.

‘ _This is the Afton household, William Afton speaking. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. If this is business, please call me at…’_

This time, Michael left a message, “Hey, dad, it’s me Michael. Um, I’m alright...I mean, something happened but I’m still here. I’ll come see you and we’ll talk face to face alright? Call me back.”

He hung the phone up, feeling anxious. Despite no longer having anything inside his chest, it still felt tight. This wasn’t right, his dad _always_ picked up. He hated having to call others back or looking bad in front of others.

He hoped he was alright.

Michael buried his face in his hands, “Lizzie, when I see you again, you’re in big big trouble.”

He hadn’t fathomed this was her plan up until the very end. He thought the Scooper would take all the “bad things” out of her and he’d carry some little part of her that held her soul back home. He didn’t know nearly as much about building animatronics as his dad and Uncle Henry did but he could figure something out.

Him and his dad were supposed to figure it out.

Maybe, William was just looking for him. Did he know what had happened? Michael almost hoped not. His dad hadn’t taken Cassidy or Elizabeth’s deaths well. He became quietly anxious and reclusive. He spent long stretches away from home but returned sometimes with more energy than he had left with. He spent this energy holed up in his workshop in the garage or office. Michael figured he was out drowning his sorrows or something but these mood swings frightened him, so he left his father to it. Half the time, he himself felt he was struggling under the weight of his siblings’ deaths.

Next, as much as he loathed it, was to take inventory of himself. So he went on into the bathroom. The morning light made it so he didn’t have to turn on the light, and so there was no hiding his features from the mirror. He recoiled instinctively.

He was gaunt, his skin stretching over his bones tightly. His hair was much more thinned than it should be, dull and without shine. His shirt, tore open, didn’t hide the long gash down his chest, the edges black. At least...the Thing...had been kind of enough to stitch it up with the thick wire it was made of. His skin was a ghastly color, a deep purple that turned to black at some places. His eye sockets were hollow but unnaturally purple eyes peered out nonetheless.

“Fuck,” was all Michael could think to say.

He stared numbly at his reflection, like his brain couldn’t figure out how to react to this development. Then again, what was he supposed to think?!

Well, first off, was how he was going to slow this and actually make sure he was clean.

Clean, right. Clean himself up first then figure out where to go from there.

He couldn’t actually take a bath or shower, fearing further rot or rust to the mechanical parts that remained inside. So he sat by the filled bathtub, dutifully scrubbing at himself with a cloth. Later, he’d pick up some hydrogen peroxide to sanitize. He nodded to himself, feeling a degree of control now. He could do this.

The scrubbing took a long time and in it, Michael’s mind wandered. Namely to the foggy dream-like memories of his time as a passenger in his own body. His last memories were of the vague feeling of laying on warm concrete, eyes fixed to the painfully blue skies. His throat and insides hurt. It was quiet. Then there was a voice, a murmuring, “You won’t die…”

A murmuring that rose into a command and with it, he found himself able to stand to his feet. Presumingly, he returned home.

Which meant Elizabeth and the others were gone and he was alone.

He should have been happy to have his life back but he just felt alone. It didn’t help that he had no idea what was going on with his dad. And if he couldn’t find him—

No, he wouldn’t jump to that conclusion, not yet. Not time to panic yet.

Once he was done with that, he dumped his clothes in the trash and returned to his room. Right, he’d have to pick this all up. For the time being, he picked up an old pair of jeans and a loose shirt to put on. Even that small gesture was a comfort.

In the meantime until the evening, when he felt comfortable setting out into public, he cleaned up his house, which Lizzie and her friends had ran through like a bull. He found himself just shaking his head at the chaos. In more ways than one, it felt like he was putting his life back together.

Evening came as the shadows in the house stretched. Michael bundled up, making sure that very little of his skin was visible with a hoodie, scarf, gloves, boots and sunglasses. He hoped the cool autumn weather would provide him an excuse. Back in the bathroom, he stared back at his reflection, only the bare minimum of his face visible. “Well, I don’t look like a serial killer at all,” he said at his reflection, voice thick with sarcasm. It would have to do.

Still, he ended up using about all his cologne, which probably didn’t help his case by much.

By some miracle, his car was at home and in one piece. Sure, there was a few dents in it but it wasn’t totaled and that was what counted.

His first destination was the store. There he grabbed two jugs of hydrogen peroxide, gauze, bandages and a sewing kit. He looked at his selection. Yeah, he looked like a serial killer. He hoped the cologne and air freshener would make him look less of one.

On his way to the cash register, Michael stopped, looking forlornly at the candy. He snapped his teeth together. All his actual teeth had been torn out sometime during the last few days but the endoskeleton the Thing left behind had teeth. He grabbed two packs of gum and headed to checkout.

The cashier, a short man with shorter blonde hair, looked about as dead inside as Michael was in general. Between ringing up his items, he eyed Michael who tried to look calm and relaxed. Finally, the man ventured, “Are you like, alright, man?”

“I just have an, ah, condition,” _that’s what we’ll call it_ , he figured.

The cashier’s eyes flicked around anxiously before he asked lowly, “Is it contagious?”

A smile played on Michael’s lips, “Nope, no need to worry.”

The cashier visibly relaxed before handing him his items, “Good luck with...all that, then.”

Michael raised his hand in farewell as he walked out. He fished one of his packages of gum out, popping a piece in his mouth. At least he could still chew gum.

He was almost home free, just had to get back to his car and speed on home for the rest of the night.

“Why, if it isn’t Michael!”

He stiffened. Of course. He turned to face the familiar face jogging across the parking lot to greet him. Even aged, Henry Emily looked ever the friendly face, though he was the last person he wanted to see at the minute. What were the chances?

Henry stopped in front of him with a warm smile. Michael wondered how in the hell he even recognized him. He grinned at him, “I haven’t seen you in a while, Michael? Are you doing alright?”

“Oh, well enough, just been sick,” Michael tried to shrug it off.

Henry frowned, “I was in the area and wanted to see how you were doing. Sorry to hear about you being sick. I was hoping to catch up some actually.”

Michael forced himself to appear calm, despite the overwhelming feeling he wasn’t being completely honest with him. Instead he asked, “That all you were looking for me for?”

Henry smiled again, his eyes sad, “I know me and your father didn’t look eye to eye at the end but I always thought you were a good kid.”

Michael choked back a denial. Instead he swallowed thickly and began again, “I can’t talk today but tomorrow night. I can tomorrow night.”

He took the receipt from his bag and handed it to him, “Give me your phone number and I’ll call you later. You still live in Hurricane?”

Henry nodded, beaming. He took a pen out of his pocket, flipped the receipt over and wrote his phone number on the back. Handing it back, he said, “Hope you’re feelin’ better by then,”

Michael watched him leave back to his car across the parking lot. Conflicted feelings swirled around in his head. Was Henry really just in Enterprise to talk to him? Or did he just happen to be here for some other reason? His whole explanation, while seemingly innocent, seemed off.

And there was the fact Michael had basically opened himself up to tell him what had happened. His disguise would not hold up under close inspection. But if he couldn’t get a hold of his dad, or god forbid something happened to him, he needed someone to confide in. To figure this out with. And Henry seemed like as good a choice as any.

He sighed as he opened his car, tossing the goods into the passenger seat.

Henry might have had some knowledge on his father’s inventions, since they did work together. Though, he never mentioned the animatronics assisting with the murders he accused his father of. Michael never knew what to think of that. His father was kind and thoughtful to them always and frankly, Henry’s accusation of his father being behind the Missing Children Incident had come out of nowhere.

Michael’s lip curled as he sat back in the driver’s seat. But there was no denying the Funtimes, intentional or not, could hurt children. Even seemed gleeful to, if the Freddy was anything to go by.

So, so many questions and not nearly enough answers. Michael shook his head to clear it. Him and Henry had a lot of talk about.

Back home, Michael was back in the bathroom and doing the arduous job of applying peroxide to himself. Afterwards, he dressed himself in comfortable clothes. He almost went on to the living room but paused by the phone. He lingered there then dialed his dad’s number again.

Right to voicemail again.

Later, after he talked to Henry, he’d stop by his dad’s place. One of the things he had been given that first night on the job was a spare key and a promise that if he needed to see his dad face-to-face, he could come right over.

He left back to the living room and flopped onto the couch, letting himself relax more than he had all day. He grabbed the remote from the arm of the couch and clicked over to his soaps. A small smile played on his face. Well, at least he still had these.

Late afternoon came the next day and it found Michael already on the road. Hurricane was more or less an hour drive from Enterprise but he still wanted it to be somewhat light out when he arrived. Him coming as late as he had was shady enough as it was but Henry seemed understanding over the phone. He turned into the path leading up to Henry’s house.

Henry’s house was tucked away from the rest of Hurricane, resting under a copse of trees. He liked his privacy, a boon after his and Will’s brand took off. While his father seemed to revel in the attention, Henry always seemed not entirely comfortable. Michael recalled spending a lot of time here as a kid, since his dad and Henry were very close back then.

Back then...when their family was still in one piece. When his brother was still alive and happy. When his sister wasn’t trapped underground. When his father was...when Michael thought his father couldn’t be anything but innocent. When things made sense.

Michael parked, shut off his car and took a moment to press his face into his hands.

Once he got himself collected, he took his scarf, wrapped it around his mouth, slipped on his sunglasses and murmured, “Go time.”

When Michael knocked, Henry answered immediately with a smile, “Michael! Come on in!”

He stepped over the threshold, taking in the place. It wasn’t any less cozy than it had been, warm and inviting.

Behind him, Henry shut the door. There was the sound of a switchblade being opened. Michael whirled around to face him. Henry held the blade at him, his face hardened. He growled, “Alright, it’s time to fess up.”

The gears in Michael’s head began to turn, “Fess up?” he said.

“Don’t play stupid with me, boy. I saw your receipt back at the store. And you smell like cologne, trying to mask something, huh?”

It clicked and Michael, despite everything, began to laugh. Henry’s eyes widened, “You lost your mind?!”

“No, no...you’ve just got it all wrong, Uncle Henry,” he reached up and, with a tug, unraveled the scarf from his face.

Henry gasped, dropping the knife on the floor where it landed with a clatter.

He removed his sunglasses, revealing his unnatural eyes, “It’s a long story,” he gave him a weak smile.

Henry openly gawked at him then pinched the bridge of his nose, “I swear...alright, let me put on some tea. Then you can get explaining.”

“Yeah, let’s go sit down. It’s...it’s a long and wild story.”

“So you have no idea how this even happened?” Henry questioned as they sat at the table after Michael’s whole story was told, from when his father contacted him to when he awoke in his bed.

Michael popped his gum and shook his head, “Beats me.”

Henry massaged his temples and growled, “Something your father did, no doubt,”

Seeing Michael’s averted eyes, he stumbled somewhat, “I mean. I don’t want to talk ill of him to you...but...you know,”

“I know,” Michael murmured.

He closed his eyes, “I believe you though,”

Henry leaned in closer, eyes alight with curiosity, “You found something down there,”

“More or less,” Michael sighed deeply then recounted, “One time, Baby spoke to me. And she told me a story how, the first day she was out, there were children. But when there was only one...something happened. I think she killed the kid...I think it was Elizabeth.”

Henry’s eyes widened but he didn’t interrupt him. Michael stared at the table, “And I just...didn’t get it. Why she’d do that. Maybe she malfunctioned but...they all were built like. Like they were supposed to hold something within them. Like Dad…” his voice caught.

Henry finished for him in a dangerously low tone, “Like he built them like that.”

Michael nodded mutely, not looking him in the eye.

Henry swore, slapping the table. He never ever swore so Michael knew he was upset. In his head, it felt distant, unreal. But voiced, there was no running away. His father was probably a murderer. It was his father’s fault Lizzie was that way she was. Once, he cared for them deeply. He still did, last time Michael talked to him. He remembered him telling him to stop years ago bothering Cassidy because one day they may be the only one the other has. He remembered his father saying the diner, and later Freddy Fazbear’s, was for him and his siblings and all kids.

But that didn’t really change things, did it?

Henry’s hand wrapped easily around his shoulder, another reminder of his new reality. Michael whispered, “I just don’t get it. Why would Dad do that?”

“I really don’t know. I didn’t get it back then and I still don’t get it now,” Henry shook his head, “But I intend to find out why.”

Michael didn’t respond and Henry sighed, “How about you stay the night and we continue tomorrow?”

He nodded, “I’d like that,”

Henry led him upstairs, an awkward smile on his lips forming as they stopped at the room at the end of the hall, “I’ve been using the guest room for storage so you could use Charlie’s old room, if that’s okay?”

Michael, feeling awkward too, ran his fingers through the back of his hair, “Er, I could always sleep on the couch...if you wanted me to.”

“I’m sure Charlie wouldn’t mind you borrowing her room.”

Michael stepped inside, absorbing it in. It was spotless and neat, an eternal shrine to Charlie Emily as she had lived. Charlie had always been closer to Cassidy and Elizabeth than him, an age discrepancy mostly. He didn’t tend to pick on his siblings when she was around, as she had no qualms of telling him to back off. She was always like that, kind and courteous but fiercely protective of others.

Even despite their lack of closeness, Michael found himself missing her. Another part of the past that he’d never be able to recover.

He turned to Henry, “Thank you, Uncle Henry.”

Henry returned the smile, “Sleep well, kiddo.”

He carefully closed the door, leaving Michael alone. Gingerly, as if worrying he’d dirty the sheets, he sat on the edge of the bed.

Charlie hadn’t been part of the Missing Children Incident but oftentimes was lumped in with the other four kids, considering the murders were all days within each other. Charlie was never missing though, they had found her back behind the pizzeria, cradled in the shorted-out Marionette’s arms. Fazbear Entertainment pointed fingers at the Security Puppet, the news shrugged and acted like it would never be solved, and the Afton and Emily families struggled to cope.

Michael thought back to how his father had behaved back then. Whatever mood swings had begun after Cassidy’s death seemed erratic, swinging wildly between somber and manic. When he was around, he immersed himself in work and when he wasn’t, Michael had no idea what he was up to. These mood swings didn’t seem to ever quite end after but they stabilized after the Missing Children Incident. The implications this had...Michael did not like to think on.

So like a lot of things in his life, he didn’t think of it at all.

By the time Michael awoke the next day, it was nearly noon. He blinked at the clock on the wall, beating himself up over sleeping so long but secretly happy Henry had let him sleep so long. He sat up and stretched before heading on downstairs.

Michael had to venture outside to find Henry who was cutting wood. When he stood straight he caught sight of Michael, “Hey, did you sleep well?”

Michael nodded, “I guess I really needed it.”

“I’d say so,” Henry shot him a crooked grin.

Michael sat on the grass, watching him resume cutting wood. The sun felt good on his skin and it made him realize how numb he had been to temperature. He sighed deeply, catching Henry’s attention. He smoothly diverted attention away, as to not concern him, “So what were you actually doing in Enterprise?”

Henry paused then began to laugh, “Oh that, well it’s so funny now in retrospect.”

Michael raised an eyebrow and Henry still laughed, “I’ve been keeping eyes on paranormal stuff in the area, remind me to tell you more about that later. I’m picking some stuff up at the hardware store and I hear this woman, talking to her husband—“

He paused to mimic the voice of an old lady, “I swear, my sister has lost it! The one that lives in Enterprise! She swears up and down she saw a dead man walkin’ last night! Like a corpse up and got out of his grave!”

Michael bowed his head, “Oh no…”

“And I’m thinking, ‘well, doesn’t Michael live there? How about I head on over, try to find him and ask him if he knows anything!’”, he paused to laugh again, “I sincerely had no idea when I saw you! I thought you were just sick and bundled up because you were cold at first!”

Michael groaned, letting himself fall onto his back dramatically, “Damn, I’m an urban legend…”

“You gotta admit, it’s kind of funny,”

“It’s kind of demeaning, that’s what it is,”

“C’mon, get up now and help me bring this wood up to the house, you urban legend you. Winter’s coming up and I want to get a head start.”

Michael groaned but got up nonetheless. He picked up a couple of the lengths of wood, internally remarking that despite his state, they weren’t that all hard to pick up. As they walked back up to the house, Henry asked, “So what are you planning to do from here, Michael?”

“I was considering driving up to Dad’s place. I haven’t been able to get a hold of him. If he’s not there, well...I guess it’s back down into Afton Robotics,” his face fell. Oh, he hoped it didn’t come to that.

“I’m coming with you,” was Henry’s immediate response.

Michael set the wood down and faced him, arms crossed, “No, that’s too risky!”

He scowled back, “Michael, I’m not having you do that alone. I’ve got some tasers, you said they can’t deal with electricity.”

Michael stared back then sighed, giving in, “Fine, alright. As long as you’re careful.”

“As long as _we’re_ careful.”

Michael melodramatically groaned, smiling as he did. “So,” Henry wiped his hands on his jeans, “You have somewhere to go?”

“Well, I have my apartment—," he paused then groaned, “And only one more month’s left of rent in savings! I supposed to have a job by now but how am I going to work like this?!”

He clenched his fist, uncertainty and panic tightening his chest. But Henry grabbing his shoulder so tightly that he could feel the endoskeleton under broke him from it. “Michael. Do you need a place to go?” he asked sternly.

He nodded numbly, “I think I do.”

“Alright,” Henry returned the nod, “You can stay with me.”

“Really? I don’t want to intrude…”

He flashed a grin at him, “Well, it’s not like you’ll eat me out of house and home, right?”

Michael was silent. Then he chuckled, “I guess not.”

The smile Henry sent back was warm and comforting, “I’m not gonna leave you on your own. Like I said before, I think you’re a good kid. And frankly, you got caught up in something you shouldn’t have.”

Michael couldn’t reply, simply staring back. He choked back, “Th-thanks…”

Henry was really too good to him, he thought. Days prior, he hadn’t talked to the man for years. Frankly, he expected his father’s accusation to taint his entire family in the man’s eyes but that wasn’t the case. He felt like he didn’t deserve this kindness but he didn’t verbally object.

Henry let him go then began to plan, “We’ll have to clear out the guest room, move stuff out to the shed. When should we head on over to your place? Should be before the 1st...say, when did you want to head on over to your dad’s place?”

“Oh, later today. He lives outside of Hurricane, er, the other side so it’s not too far.”

“Perfect!” Henry clapped his hands, “We can get started on the guest room today!”

Something Michael had always noticed about Henry was when he put his mind to something, he damn well was going to get it done. So he shouldn’t have been surprised when they were in the guest room nearly right away. Luckily, it wasn’t a massive undertaking, so it didn’t continue on into the evening. Which left Michael time to mentally prepare.

Evening came and the pair was in Henry’s car, off to the Afton residence. Sometime between when he moved away from Hurricane and established Circus Baby’s, William had returned to the childhood home. Henry had no reason to further bother him after the courts had acquitted him but it didn’t lessen the grudge he had. He just felt in his chest that William did it, he had killed Charlie and those other kids.

Henry glanced over at Michael, who was idly looking out the window. He knew the boy was grappling with the very real possibility that his father was the killer. He obviously believed it but...Henry could tell it was difficult to.

While Michael hoped to find his father, Henry almost didn’t, at least not right away. He wanted to see what the man had in his home, what evidence pointed to him as the killer. He knew it had to be there. The man had to have some form of blueprints for the Funtimes which would give Henry all the information he needed. He didn’t dare tell Michael, to even insinuate it. But he knew he was taking a risk bringing Michael here.

Ah, well. If William was here, he had some words for him, just for Michael’s condition alone!

They pulled up to the house and all the lights were out. Michael wasted no time jogging up to the door and unlocking it. Henry followed after, stepping inside the threshold. Michael stood in the middle of the living room and called, “Dad!”

When there was no response, he ran up the stairs. Henry sighed. Will’s car hadn’t been in the driveway which wasn’t a good sign.

Upstairs, Michael had come into Will’s office and was searching the desk, for any clue. When Henry came in, he murmured to him, “He’s not here. Where could he have gone?”

Henry sighed, “No car in the driveway so I figured.”

Agitated, Michael sat in the chair and began to pull out drawers in his desk, rifling through the papers. Henry watched on, pained but letting the boy look.

Michael was frustrated to find nothing but business records and the like. He groaned, putting his head in his hands...then paused. From where he was leaned down, he could see the wall behind the desk was slightly raised. Curious, he got out of the chair and on his knees, pressing the wall.

The panel gave in so Michael could pull it away. “What did you find, Michael?” Henry asked behind him.

“I don’t know. Blueprints, by the look of it. A book and a tape recorder,” he pulled out the contents and came out from under the desk.

Henry joined him on the floor, picking up the first blueprint out of the stack. It was of an animatronic fox with a plastic, segmented shell. It was named “Labit” and had a big red stamp of ‘SCRAPPED’ on it. William’s handwriting said beside it, ‘Use ‘Funtime Foxy” exterior and repaint, possibly install ability to scramble or interfere with technology/electricity, pair up with “Bonnet” design?’

All the blueprints were of scrapped, prototype or otherwise unused animatronics. There was another bear (referencing a “Funtime Freddy”), the aforementioned Bonnet, a plan for a sort of springlock suit and other miscellaneous things. But frustratingly, nothing actually giving any indication William intended them to be anything but children’s entertainers.

He looked up at Michael who was watching him, “Does your father have a workshop or anything?”

“He did in the garage...are we taking this with us?”

Henry nodded and, when seeing Michael’s confused expression, he clarified, “If your dad is really missing, once the Afton Robotics people notice, they’ll have the cops out here investigating. So I advise you grab anything you want to keep...just in case.”

He stood, having gathered it all up in his arms. “I’m going to put these in the car then look around some more.”

Michael looked hurt but nodded. He understood what would happen if his dad was declared missing...or worse. At least his father still had family that all this would go to.

He let Henry leave. He knew what was Henry was looking for and he wasn’t going to stop him. If his father was guilty, he had to face it. He sighed and stood, venturing back out into the main house.

He gravitated to the living room, where their photo albums were. He picked up one and cracked it to the first page, smiling. There was a photo of him posing by the newly built Foxy animatronic with his mask. His father had given him it off the prototype shell, as it didn’t fit quite right. And there was his brother, staring shyly at the camera, half-hiding behind his Fredbear plush. It was a custom, made by his father for him. And another of Lizzie, holding their dad’s hand, in front of the house. And a last one on the page of all three, standing in front of the newly built Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. He snapped it closed and set it on top of the bookcase. He added all of them with it. He’d grab them on his way out.

Next destination was upstairs, past the grandfather clock and in the hall. He paused, unsure of where to go next before he turned into the closest room.

Like Henry had with Charlie’s room, William hadn’t touched Cassidy’s room. Even his plushes were stacked up on the back of the bed. He approached them then frowned. There was a glaring omission. The Fredbear plush. That was weird, he wasn’t sure where it would have gone. He would have liked to have it.

He wondered for a minute before leaving for Lizzie’s room. Like Cassidy’s, it was untouched. He frowned as he surveyed it. He hoped wherever she was, Lizzie was alright.

Next was his own but he did have a solid idea of what he wanted from there. He threw the closet open and crouched, pulling a box from the back. Set inside, on top of a stack of comic books, was the Foxy mask. He remembered his father had washed it and tried to give it back after the accident but Michael had violently rejected him, throwing it in the back of the closet. But now, he thought as he held it in front of his face, it might just help him out.

“Hey, Michael!” came Henry’s voice from downstairs so he stood and went back downstairs.

Downstairs, Henry was standing in the living room, with a key in hand. He said, “I found this but I haven’t a clue what it unlocks.”

“Where’d you find it?”

“Out in the garage, in the toolbox.”

Michael raised an eyebrow and set the Foxy mask on the photo albums, “Let me go see.”

Out in the garage, Henry led him over to where he found the key. Almost instantly, Michael’s head felt fuzzy, like something was buzzing inside. He stopped in front of the toolbox and rubbed his temples, “What the…” he murmured and looked to a suddenly alarmed Henry, “Do you feel weird? Like your head is buzzing?”

Henry shook his head. Michael scowled. Typical, more weird fuckery. He started to rifle through the drawers, finding nothing out of the ordinary, apart from a weird silver disk. He handed it to Henry, “Take that over to the car door.”

Henry obeyed but the buzzing didn’t go away. Michael dropped to his knees, feeling around and under the toolbox. There was something here setting the machinery inside him off. Finding nothing, he walked along the wall. The buzzing intensified as he reached the corner, where there was a cabinet. Inside there was only spare parts. Michael slammed the door and paced in front of it. Where was it?!

“Henry!” he snapped, “Help me move this!”

Henry set the disk aside and complied. He didn’t mind Michael snapping at him. Something was up and it was really bothering him. Together they moved the cabinet, revealing a sunken part of the floor with a hatch. Michael asked, “What in the hell?”

Henry crouched and tried to pull the wheel but it didn’t budge. A little more inspection revealed a key hole which he tried the key on.

It worked and some mechanism inside clicked. This time, the wheel spun with no resistance, allowing Henry to open it. A hole yawned back at them, with only a ladder leading into the dark. Both stared at the other, silent, until Henry said, “Mike, go get a flashlight.”

When Michael returned, Henry started to descend, “Stay here, Mike.”

“Fuck no!” he crossed his arms, “I’m coming with!”

Henry gave him a helpless look but saw Michael wasn’t budging. He groaned and beckoned him to follow.

Together, the pair descended into the deep. Henry was the first down, casting a look at Michael who looked worse for wear, obviously in pain and annoyed about it. He didn’t say anything to the boy, instead casting the flashlight around the room. A single light hung above with a pull switch so he turned it on.

The room wasn’t that large, smaller than a bedroom. A strange machine sat to the right of them, with a pair of screens and a set of buttons. Beside it was a desk and filing cabinet, both kept immaculately neat. There was two doors, one leading into another room and the other impossible to tell where it went, but it had a map taped up to it.

Michael hopped down and pointed to the machine, “That’s the thing! Turn the fucker off!”

“Hold on, Michael,” Henry walked over to the machine to closer inspect it.

The top screen was larger, showing a green grid with a bright green tunnel system superimposed on a dimmer green map of the area around Hurricane and the surrounding towns. Dots lit up on it, a white one showing where they were and a cluster a couple of towns over. The lower screen told him what the dots represented with each split into two categories, active and inactive. There were five active dots in the cluster, representing Circus Baby, Ballora, Funtime Freddy, Bon-Bon and Funtime Foxy. The white dot was labeled as the ‘E-01 Prototype’. Henry raised an eyebrow and cast his gaze back to Michael, who was rubbing his temples in some attempt to minimize his headache. He scowled, “Are you done gawkin’ at it?!”

“Michael, this is a tracker,” he said bluntly.

“What?!” Michael muscled his way in front of it. His eyes widened and he tapped the cluster, “That’s the Thing. And this must...be me?” his finger dragged over to the white dot.

“I reckon it’s what’s inside you actually. Whatever they were using as an endoskeleton.”

Michael frowned but flipped the switch, turning it off. He stood in thought then asked, “Why is this down here? Dad must have been using this to make sure they were staying where they should or using this to track them down if they got away. But...he never found them or me.”

That did not bode well. Michael went quiet and Henry sighed. Of course, the man disappears right after this. He left Michael to his thoughts before he sat at the desk. He opened the first drawer of the filing cabinet, immediately finding something promising. Filed under “F” was a whole stack of the Funtimes’ blueprints. “Here we go,” he murmured, setting them on the desk.

The first was Circus Baby herself. Her features seemed mostly innocuous but there was a note to check ‘Circus Baby – Ice Cream Mechanism’ blueprint. That one was the next one and it made Henry’s blood run cold. A claw mechanism was printed on the majority of the blueprint with a diagram that it was stored in a ‘storage compartment’. It also had references to a "SCUP". Combined with Michael’s account that Circus Baby had hurt his sister, it wasn’t a jump in logic to how it had happened.

The other three main Funtimes’ features were more shady. Voice mimicry and luring, parental voice sync and replay, some sort of deter and misdirect directive. Henry set them down and covered his face. He couldn’t believe it.

“Henry...what did you find?” Michael stopped by him.

He paused and his face fell upon seeing the blueprints. Henry sighed, “We were right, Michael. These things...they’re monsters and Will built them to be that way.”

“But...but why? Do they say, why?”

Henry shook his head and stood. He opened the filing cabinet. There were still more, a stack filed under N and a larger stack filed under P. He took both stacks, setting them under the Funtimes’ stack. He’d investigate further at home.

Michael lingered by the first door, looking inside the window, “There’s a workshop in here,” he opened it and stepped inside.

Inside it was as neat as the previous room. A counter hugged the corner of the room and in the center was a table in which a dismantled endoskeleton sat hunched. Michael couldn’t suppress the shudder at seeing it. Henry followed him inside and remarked, “Looks like he hasn’t been in here for a while.”

“I think there was a room for this sort of thing inside the facility,” Michael said, as he investigated the counter. There wasn’t anything of note. He sighed, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah, let’s,” Henry agreed, “I just want to see what that other door is for.”

They exited the room, returning to the main room. Henry approached the door. The map on the door was identical to the one on the screen of the machine. Tunnels, there were tunnels under Hurricane. That made sense how the amalgamation was moving around. That meant this was one of the areas accessible by it. He flicked his pocketknife open and used it to cut the map off the wall, deciding to take that with him too.

He turned, “Now, let’s get out of here.”

It was late when they got back, Henry going to make a late dinner and Michael disappearing into the living room, flopping onto the couch and switching the channel to his soaps. This was how Henry found him with the addition of a blanket draped over him. There was something comical about him peeking out from under the blanket, eyes aglow and fixed on the TV as he was enthralled with the story of Vlad the vampire and Clara, his wife.

Henry smiled, letting him have his show and sat down to eat.

On a commercial break, Michael sat up. He broke the silence, “That Thing’s still out there, huh?”

Henry nodded, “Couple of towns away from here, in the next town from Enterprise.”

“More reason to stay here.”

Henry did not comment on that. He couldn’t see why the Thing would come back after Michael but he wasn’t about to invalidate Michael’s fear towards it. He stabbed at a piece of chicken, “Should give it a name,” he remarked.

Michael scowled, “Why’s it need a name?”

“Might as well. Though might easier to just call it Elizabeth,”

“Nuh-uh. There are others in there so there’s a distinction!”

Henry stared at him. Michael sighed, “Ennard, we’ll call it Ennard.”

“Welp, I guess this does come from the kiddo who insisted the fox be called “Foxy”.”

“Hey!” Michael threw up his arms, “It was inside me, it’s an innard! Just imagine it with an E instead of an I!”

Henry chuckled, shaking his head, “Calm down, boy, your show’s back on.”

Michael huffed and let himself fall flat back on the couch.

Henry still smiled. He would not admit it to the boy but he was happy he was staying here. It had been too long he had anyone else.

He closed his eyes. But there was work to be done yet. Rifling through blueprints, tracking down William, getting some justice for his baby girl.

But that was tomorrow. After all, it was another day.


	2. Found and Not Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry and Michael go down into Afton Robotics, things are found and not found and Michael dreams a weird dream.

“So, did you want to go out to Afton Robotics tonight?” Henry asked the next morning, watching a still tired Michael shuffle into the kitchen.

It was almost comical, how he looked, with still bleary eyes and hair that stuck up every which way. He smoothed it, “Oh, yeah, guess so.”

He fished a pack of gum from his pants pocket and popped a piece in his mouth, in lieu of breakfast. “Well, I’d offer you coffee but…” Henry trailed off.

Michael sat across from him and shot a tired smile at him, “’Fraid I haven’t the stomach for it,” his accent bleeding through.

Henry snorted while Michael grinned wide at his own joke. “Anyway,” Henry took a sip of his coffee, “We want to get out there before the cops do.”

The media circus surrounding both Fredbear’s and Freddy Fazbear’s after their respective murders was a nightmare and probably played a big part in flat out killing Fredbear’s and leading Fazbear’s down the road of decline. The news was in a frenzy, nothing bad ever happened in New Harmony or Hurricane! And the cops scrambled to find an answer for not only the affected families but also the frantic media. First, they pointed fingers at Henry but after he begrudgingly let them scour his property, they turned to William, on his accusation.

Though, nothing came of it and William was allowed free. Henry always wondered how “hardass Officer Burke” never found anything.

“Right, when we get back from your place, I’ll get those tasers from my workshop and see if they’re in working condition.”

Michael raised an eyebrow so he explained, “Back at the Jr’s location, the employees were using them as a sort of last ditch effort when the animatronics got wonky. I never approved of it though.”

“Weren’t you out of the company by then?”

“For the most part. I remained as a sort of consultant.”

Once more, Michael gave him a smile, “Did they ever consult you?”

“Oh, loads,” he grumbled and took a long sip from his coffee, “Listening on the other hand…”

Michael elected to take them over to his place in his own car rather than Henry’s truck. When asked, he said he didn’t want Henry to look suspicious and that he wanted to get it over with. Henry figured that did make sense. No telling what people saw or thought of Michael. And he didn’t have much anyway to his name.

And he really wasn’t lying. His home was sparse. It hurt Henry to see. Once inside, he followed Michael to his room. The boy stood at the threshold of it, as if lost in thought. Henry coughed, “Hey, Mike, what do you need help with?”

He turned and pointed at the TV cabinet, “In there are some VCR tapes, bag ‘em up...oh! And the VCR too. You don’t have one in the guest room.”

Henry nodded and dutifully went to do that as Michael disappeared into his room, shutting the door behind him. By the time he had all the tapes together, Michael emerged from the room, in fresh clothes and carrying a box. He set it down by Henry who could see ‘Clothes’ scrawled in it in marker. He stood for a moment then asked out of the blue, “Did you ever look at Dad’s blueprints?”

Henry set the bag of tapes on top of the box and looked at it, “Oh, no. I was waiting for you.”

His face was unreadable and he turned away, “You can look at them without me. I have to grab some more things from my room.”

Henry didn’t mean to upset him. Michael was still struggling with the concept of William as a killer. He couldn’t blame him, Henry’s initial accusation against his former best friend was merely a suggestion…

_Officer Clay Burke returned to Henry and grumbled, “Alright, you’re free and clear, we can’t find anything connecting you to any of the murders.”_

_Henry, sitting on a log as the cops rifled through his entire property scowled, “Why would there be, why would I kill my own daughter?!”_

“ _We’re just being thorough. Do you have any idea who could have done this? Do you have any enemies?”_

“ _Enemies! No, lord no!” He thoughtfully paused, “Listen, the only other person I can think of is Will. But I haven’t a clue why he would do it. He loved Charlie, he was her Uncle Will!”_

“ _Thanks for the tip, Mr. Emily. I don’t know why either but we’ll look into it.”_

He sighed deeply. It was only after he looked into it himself did he become convinced Will did it. Only few others knew how to operate the springlock suits. The killer used Spring Bonnie and no one knew her better than Will.

It only took a bit longer to pack up all Michael wanted to take. He was leaving a lot behind but it didn’t seem to bother him.

Once home, Michael took his stuff up to the room, probably to unpack. He left him to it, figuring he’d be happier doing it himself and putting all his things where he liked. Making the room his own, if you will.

Henry himself went up to his office, opening his desk to take out the items he took from William’s. First was the blueprints which he took out and spread into three stacks: the Funtimes, the “N” blueprints and the “P” blueprints.

He didn’t bother looking through the Funtimes again, instead looking at the “N” blueprints. And oh, they did not look nearly as fun or friendly as the Funtimes. Unlike them, there was no disguising the function of these.

The top sheet of the blueprints was of a nightmarish Freddy, complete with sharp teeth and claws. There was little to be said of features, as it was obviously a rough draft. There were references to an “illusion disk” and Freddles.

Two papers were clipped to the Freddy blueprint. The first was of the referenced Freddles, miniature versions of Nightmare Freddy. The second wasn’t a blueprint but a detail drawing of Freddy and his Freddles. Weird, this was Michael’s, he recognized his style.

The next three blueprints were the rest of the Classics, each with references to the same “illusion disk” and Michael’s drawings clipped to them. This was already forming some sort of explanation but Henry felt he was missing something.

The next was Fredbear and Henry hissed in distaste. His animatronic, the one he slaved over and Will was planning to make a perversion of it?!

The drawing clipped to it made it so much worse. Fredbear was hunched over, his muzzle streaked with scarlet. Michael had had a lot of baggage after the bite and here William was planning to weaponize it. Whether he made the animatronic for real or not wasn’t what mattered, it was the intent. He resisted the urge to tear the blueprint in two and continued through the stack.

He furrowed his eyebrow at the next paper, as it was just a drawing and not a blueprint with an accompanying one. It depicted a bear near identical to Fredbear except it was pitch black with few features such as bright red eyes and a stomach mouth. Henry frowned deeply. Maybe saying Michael had some baggage after the bite was an understatement. He knew at the time he carried all his guilt deep in his chest and didn’t dare let anyone see the full extent. But if it was bad enough to haunt hi m like this , then no one knew  truly  how badly he felt.

He sped through the next few, a s he was  seething at the first few, so he didn’t think the next few could be much worse. He was correct as they were only concepts sketched by Will. A little plush rabbit with sunken eyes, a spindly, even moreso than she already was, Marionette with long, tentacle-esque fingers, even a Balloon Boy with a bear trap mouth! What in the good heavens did Will plan using these for?

He sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair. He should be glad it appeared Will never went through with these (and he sincerely hoped not) but he was just angry he thought of them at all! And there was something shady about using Michael’s dr awing s as inspiration, sick even. He eyed the last stack and figured to go through the rest of the items before he went to see Michael. 

The last stack must have been refined prototypes. Quite a few were refined versions of those from the blueprints. “Labit” was now Lolbit and was apparently supposed to link up to some sort of network. There was some even innocuous things in there, like holiday versions of their Classic lineup. It was something they had always wanted to do, to make separate fabric skins they could put on the Classics’ endos for the holidays. Of course, everything fell apart well before then.

He picked up the disk next. Could this be the illusion disk? It was small and silver with a plastic cap in the middle, housing an LED light. It was dead, so it wasn’t going to give its nature any time soon.

He sighed and took the notebook. Immediately he was flooded with disappointment. It was written in code, all of it. He swore as he flipped through it. So close yet so far!

Frustrated, he put it all back in his desk. The tape player would wait until later. He left the drawing of the nightmarish Fredbear though, folded it and pocketed it.

Michael was in the room, sitting on the bed and putting his clothes on hangers. He had hooked up the VCR to the television and had some sort of action movie playing. Henry wouldn’t know what it was, they weren’t his thing. He looked up and waved. “Looks like you’ve just about moved in,” Henry nodded, surveying the room.

“Yep,” he said, popping the p and smiling at him.

Well, now Henry was having second thoughts on asking him about the drawing. He sat on the bed and started, “I went lookin’ through the stuff from your dad’s place.”

Michael frowned, “What did you find?”

“Nothing much new though this is part of it,” he took the drawing from his pocket, smoothed it out and handed it over.

Michael’s face fell, “This is the thing from my nightmares…”

“Your nightmares?”

“After...the accident, I had a lot of nightmares. And this guy along with a bunch of other freaky animatronics were in them, always trying to hurt me,” he looked at the drawing again, “This guy would pick me up and...bite down.”

Henry frowned, not needing to ask for clarification. Instead he said, “These were with some of the blueprints, did you draw them?”

Michael nodded, “Dad noticed I wasn’t getting good sleep, asked about it then told me maybe it would help if I drew them out. Why...why were they with them?”

A pause then, “Your dad had blueprints of these guys, not complete ones thank goodness.”

The paper crinkled as Michael clenched his fists, “Why?! He saw how much sleep I was losing from these guys!”

Henry helplessly shook his head, “He didn’t say why.”

Michael hissed and thrust the drawing back in his hand, “I don’t want to see this thing ever again.”

He sighed and hung his head, “I’ll finish this up and we can head out.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I want to get that done.”

Henry rose from the bed, “Alright, just...take it easy, Michael.”

“Will do.”

The drive over to Afton Robotics was quiet and tense as they sped through the mostly deserted highway. Afton Robotics was a good distance out of Hurricane, nearly in the middle of the desert. It certainly helped with the atmosphere; hopeless and desolate. Henry typically found the desert nights to be beautiful but the building stretching ominously over the highway made them anything but.

They parked and Michael got out first, shining his flashlight over the parking lot. It was deserted. He flicked the flashlight off and walked up to the door, punching a code into the keypad. The doors opened and he smirked, “You’d think they’d change the code every so often.”

“As bad as those people who took over Fazbear’s,” Henry shook his head as he caught up to him.

The pair set off, Michael leading him to the back to the elevator. They stepped inside and the machine whirred to life, a little jingle playing as they descended into the depths. In an attempt to alleviate the awkwardness, Henry murmured, “That’s some...elevator music, huh?”

“Yeah, really sets the mood of going straight into a pit of killer animatronics.”

A ding and the doors opened. Michael naturally took up the lead, shining his light over the room then shining it through the windows for good measure. “Alright, let’s start in Funtime Auditorium. It’s the biggest.”

Henry eyed the vents on the floor, “Are we…?”

“Yes,” and Michael dropped to his knees, shimmying his way inside.

“I swear,” he sighed as he followed him.

Once inside, Michael shone his light over the room. Other than a few stray parts here and there, it was empty. He relaxed to a degree. His light shone over the door at the fair end of the room and his lip curled.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, boy?” Henry asked as he stood, wincing with effort.

“Nothing you want to see,” he mumbled cryptically, “That’s the Scooping Room.”

“Oh.”

He shone the light along the edge of the room, landing on a door halfway down the way, “That’s the er...parts and services, right. I don’t think there’s anything worth anything in there,” his light went over a door at the nearer end to them, “But that? I haven’t a clue what that is.”

“Sounds like a good place to start.”

They crossed the room in silence, Michael in the lead. He unclipped the taser off his belt, eyes scanning the room as they went. There was nothing here, he tried to rationalize. Ennard couldn’t have made it back within the day. But yet, he worried.

Finally, he opened the door.

Inside, it was lit by three bulky monitors, stacked on each other and flickering static, casting an eerie glow to the room. On the same desk was a computer, powered down. Behind it all, on the wall was a keypad and above all this, an ajar vent. Michael scowled, “Hey, what is this doing here?”

He stalked up to the desk and swiped something off of it; the Fredbear plush. The walkie-talkie it had been holding clattered to the desk. Henry stepped in behind him, “Isn’t that your brother’s?”

“It’s one-of-a-kind and,” he flipped it upside-down to show the “C.A.” stitched into it’s paw.

He raised an eyebrow at the fallen walkie-talkie and picked it up to speak into it, “Hello?”

The plush crackled then mimicked, “Hello?”

The two looked at each other, eyes wide. Henry shook his head helplessly and Michael scowled once more. “I’m going to check this out,” Henry sat in the chair and booted up the computer.

“Right,” Michael tucked the plush under his arm, having no intentions of leaving it behind.

He inspected the keypad. Now what could that be for? With a little thinking, he punched in the first year he could think of. It played a little click of affirmative. 1983...of course.

The screens changed, to where they had been barely 24 hours earlier. “Um,” Michael said, alerting Henry who was patiently waiting for the computer to finish booting.

He looked up, “Isn’t that your house?”

“Why…?” Michael narrowed his eyes, he was getting tired of asking that.

He looked back at the plush as it clicked, “Walkie-talkie must have been to talk to Cassidy and the screens to watch over him...or me and Elizabeth after the accident.”

Henry bit back a comment of how creepy that was. Instead he tilted his head, “You reckon?”

Before Michael could respond, the computer booted to where it had been before it was unceremoniously powered down. Henry couldn’t parse exactly what was going on in the paused footage. Michael took a step forward, squinting. It clicked. He was looking in a mirror at himself, hunched in a heap with Ennard hovering like a vulture.

He stumbled back, hit the wall and slid down to the ground, wheezing, “ _Nooooo…_ ”

Henry was up like a shot, “Michael!”

He dropped to his knees beside him as Michael clutched the Fredbear plush like a lifeline, eyes wide with terror. His chest was heaving in a panic. “Mike, it’s going to be alright. They’re not here, you’re here with me,” he spoke in a  panic .

A memory came unbidden of Henry comforting someone just like this, many years ago. He shook his head to clear it. He had to be in the here and now.

Luckily, Michael was getting himself back in control. Henry sighed, “Maybe we should go home. I can’t see any evidence of Will being here.”

“But the computer—“

“Even so, he’s not here now.”

Michael looked at the plush, eyes hooded then he nodded, “Let’s get out of here.”

Henry ended up driving home, something Michael didn’t complain about. He rubbed the head of the Fredbear plush as they pulled into the driveway. Fredbear stared back innocently.

Once they parked, Michael got out ahead of Henry. Henry stuck his head out the window, “Hey, Michael! In a hurry?”

“I’m going to bed.”

“But you’re going to miss—“he disappeared inside, “...your show.”

Henry sighed deeply. Well, he couldn’t blame him. The past few days must have just been an onslaught of one thing after another to his emotions. He wasn’t sure if it was a perfect comparison but after losing Charlotte and his dreams and his wife leaving...he felt sometimes like he just wanted to sleep too.

Michael collapsed on his bed. He groaned into the pillow and rolled over, setting Fredbear on the other side of the bed. He frowned and said to it, “I miss you, Cassidy. Everyday, if you can believe it. I really wish I could go back and...sock myself in the face. Tell him he’s a little brat and he needs to appreciate what he has...it’s not going to be there forever.”

The plush stared and he sighed, closing his eyes, soon going off to sleep.

His eyes snapped open and he stared at the ceiling. He was back in that room. He lifted up his hand. And he was back in his teenage body.

He sat up, dread crawling up his spine. He took the flashlight and clicked it on. He was having those nightmares again.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Michael slid out of the bed and crept to the right door. He paused. All quiet. For good measure, he shone the light down the hall. Nothing.

He repeated this for the other door, the closet and the bed. Nothing was here, no monsters, nothing. He should have been glad for no monsters in the dark corners but all he felt was dread. He pondered what to do as he sat in the middle of the room. Well, it was worth a try.

Despite his better judgment, he stepped into the hall. “What’s the worse they can do? Kill me again?” he tried to joke but it fell flat. He started to creep down the hall.

The hall stretched ever onward, feeling miles long instead of just a dozen feet long. Doors lined it, all shut. Michael kept swearing he could hear something behind him but nothing ever came.

Finally, he emerged downstairs and jumped.

In the middle of the living room, was the four Classic animatronics, hunched over in sitting positions, weathered and worn. They were situated in a semi-circle around a large gift box with the Fredbear plush on top. It’s eyes were alight and seemingly fixed on him. One by one, each animatronic’s eyes came on, shining in the dark. The box’s lid shifted and a spindly hand came from under, lifting it just enough for something with bright green eyes to stare back with. Fredbear began to crackle then his speaker began to play, “Help...help...help...HELP!” it screamed!

Michael startled awake with a cry. He stared at the ceiling, where the shadows reached far. His eyes drifted to the clock on the side table. It was 6 am. He stared back, numb to actually process what he had just seen.

It wasn’t a nightmare, not quite. Weird dream, yes, but nightmare, no. Should he be grateful for that? Perhaps but it still clung to him.

Days passed and Michael did not dream again. He didn’t mention it to Henry, barely having any idea on what it was himself. Today, he was out in the yard. In fact, he had been out there the past few days. He nagged Henry for something to do to help and, despite Henry’s insistence he didn’t have to, Michael continued. So he eventually relented and gave  him a list of things to do around the yard, if he really wanted to. Which he did, not only to help, but to keep himself busy.

Today, he was raking. And thinking about the dream, like he had the past few times he was out here.

Did the dream mean anything or was he just stressed? If it did mean something, what? Was someone calling out to him? Henry seemed to be of the mindset that there was ghosts within Freddy’s but why would they call to him? They didn’t know him and hell, he was the son of who killed them!

He raked a little more violently. It didn’t make sense, at all. And there was the matter of the thing within the box. He remembered the Marionette, having seen it before it debuted and hearing stories from Jeremy.

Jeremy...they were good friends for a while, especially after the accident. All of Michael’s friends split after that apart from him. Jeremy understood he didn’t mean to do it. They might have remained friends if Michael hadn’t moved away in a bid to get away from Freddy’s after Jeremy’s own accident. Man, he missed him too. Maybe he was still in the area. No, then he’d have to explain everything to him and that...that was a lot.

He leaned on the house, admiring his handiwork. He’d eventually have to get a hobby but this did help. He leaned his head back, looking up at the cloudy autumn sky. Something caught his eye.

Up in the window above him, his window, was the Fredbear plush. Except it was facing out, instead of in, like it should. Mike  stared at it dumbstruck but didn’t have much  time to think about  it because someone was coming up the road. Immediately, he dropped the rake and retreated towards the back. He lingered until he saw it was a cop car. Then he bolted in, yelling, “Henry! Cop coming up the way!”

“Cop?” Henry looked up from what he was doing but Michael had already gone upstairs and out of sight.

Shortly after, there was a knock at the door. At it was none other than Officer Clay Burke. Henry’s eyebrows raised, “Officer Burke? What is the problem?”

Officer Burke, or Clay Burke, was a big part of the investigations into Freddy’s back in the 80s and was fiercely determined to get to the bottom of them. Probably still was. However, when he never found any conclusive evidence for William’s involvement, Will was allowed free. No doubt a sore spot for the officer to this day.

Clay replied, “We’re looking into the disappearance of William Afton, Mr. Emily. May I come in?”

“Well, sure,” Henry stepped aside.

He knew Michael had the common sense to stay out of sight. It would be an interesting thing to explain otherwise.

He led him into the kitchen where Clay consulted his notes, “The Afton Robotics people called us, said Will hadn’t touched base with them for some time. Obviously very unusual for their CEO. I wanted to know if you had absolutely any idea of where he may have gone.”

“No, sir. Haven’t seen nor talked to Will since after he was let free.”

Clay whistled, “Guessing that did a number on ya’ll’s relationship? The whole accusation?”

Henry, vaguely annoyed, nodded. “Anyway,” Clay continued, “Now, I wanted to ask because we did find his car. Out behind the abandoned Freddy’s. Looked it high and low for him but nothing. We haven’t a clue where he went from there.”

Henry raised his eyebrows once more, “Why would he be there?”

“We have no idea. No evidence of what he was up to or even where he went. If you asked me, I’d say he never left but obviously that isn’t the case.”

Henry nodded.

“Now, this next thing is off the book,” Clay closed his notebook and Henry perked up, “Michael Afton, his son, is also missing following some frankly bizarre rumors.”

“Rumors?”

Clay’s mouth tightened then he waved him off, “Like I said, rumors. He seemed to have split town from Enterprise. I have no idea what to make of it but I have half a mind to say the disappearances are related.”

“Well, I haven’t talked to Michael either,” Henry lied, “But I hope he’s alright. Sorry I couldn’t help more.”

"Nothing you can help," he rose and tipped his head at Henry, "Have a good evening, Mr. Emily."  
  
"And you too, Officer Burke."  
  
He watched him leave and only got a few moments to reflect on what was said before Michael stepped into the kitchen, "What was that for?"  
  
"It was Officer Burke."  
  
"You mean _hardass_ Officer Clay Burke?"  
  
"The very one and same. They're looking for your father."  
  
Michael frowned, "Did they find anything?"  
  
Henry paused bur he couldn't lie to the boy, "His car was behind the old Freddy's but no one knows where he went from there."  
  
"Something did happen."  
  
"I'm not saying that. He could have skipped town for all we know."  
  
Michael frowned and started for the door.  
  
"Michael, don't go looking at the pizzeria for him," Henry warned, "The place is crawling with cops and the last thing is we need is them to see you! Not only for the obvious reason but because Clay very much made it sound like he thinks your and your dad's disappearance are connected!"  
  
Michael shot him a defiant look and for a second, he thought he was going to ignore him. Then he hung his head and sighed, his arms dropping to his sides, " So this is it. I just...I wanted to ask him why."  
  
"You know they've looked through that place thoroughly. It's Burke we're talkin' about. We'll just have to wait for him to come back. William will come back."  
  
Michael frowned tightly then left without another word. Obviously, he didn't believe Henry. He wasn't even sure what to tell Michael. He himself was sure Will would come back, he had to so Henry could show everyone what he did. He sighed deeply.  
  
Michael closed the door behind him and sat on the bed, drawing one leg up to his chest. Why wouldn't his dad come back for him? Didn't he want to see if he was okay? Was he frightened maybe? But he knew he loved him. He wouldn't abandon him unless something happened, risk of getting arrested or not.  
  
Maybe he shouldn't want his father to be here but he had so much to ask. Why did he kill those children? Why did he build the Funtimes? Why did he send him down there?!  
  
All his repressed emotions and thoughts were bubbling up and Michael was struggling to keep a lid of them. He wanted to throw something, to break something! Or even to just cry or scream! He didn't want to be angry at his father but he was. His actions, everything he did, tore their family apart. Tore even Henry's apart. All those good times were gone. How could his father have done that, to deprive those children of their happiness? He didn't understand and didn't know if he could.  
  
He turned to the Fredbear plush and shakily grabbed it, hugging it against his chest. The only one left was his mother, who separated from his dad when he was but a boy, albeit amicably. She lived in Montana now. Michael hadn't seen her for so long and how could he, in this state?  
  
He could call, he supposed. Not tonight, not like this.  
  
But...he could call someone else.  
  
He stood, walking over to the landline, taking Fredbear with him. He dialed and waited.  
  
Predictably, it went to voicemail. That was okay, he expected that. He sighed deeply, "Father, its me. Michael. I don't know when...or if you'll hear this but...I did it."  
  
A pause then with more conviction:  
  
"I did it. It was right where you said it would be..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright i bit the bullet and made a sideblog for this (mainly to drop ideas onto) but if you wanna see that its https://rabbithole-au.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> Is this a series now? Guess it is since inspiration hit me like a truck, so much so i couldn't fit all i wanted in this so decided to cut this in two


End file.
